


after tomorrow.

by AlwaysInSonder



Series: Plance Anthology [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Full on Angst, One Shot, hope u enjoy warm regards rose xo, plance, sorry im really tired and i wrote this while commuting lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 05:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysInSonder/pseuds/AlwaysInSonder
Summary: There’s something familiar about the man, especially around his eyes. They are a precise shade of blue she knows (and loves) too well but passes the thought as a coincidence.





	after tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> As it is my style, posted late in the night and unbeta-d. Please accept my apologies in advance.

It is yet another late night in the office for Dr. Katie “Pidge” Holt. Her assistants had begged for her to join them for their celebratory dinner, but she had politely declined them in favour of putting the finishing touches to her new creation. Tomorrow, she will present it. It is still a prototype; the build a little too clunky and not quite portable as of yet, but she knows in the future, it will be far better improved. She envisions it small as a pen, enough to fit in a pocket. Regardless, the very rumors of her ambitious ventures has sent the scientific community into a frenzy. It defies the laws of physics as they knew it. This device will change humanity - the _universe - _as they knew, forever.

She closes the hatch of her device and sighs tiredly as she carefully screws it tight. Her back aches as she has been hunched over her desk for hours on end and her neck begs for the attention of a physiotherapist (or her husband's skilled fingers), but she pushes on.

She polishes the cool, metal surface of the device, smiling as the laser engravings come to the fore. With surgical precision, she carefully attaches the power source to its titanium holder and slides the device onto its placeholder. Giving a satisfied nod, she stands up to stretch. Her bones crack and she quietly muses to herself how she is practically nearing her father’s age in physicality.

As she stretches her limbs, the reflection on her device catches her eye. She swivels around, startled to see a man looking into the windows of her lab. She tilts her head a bit and approaches him. He looks vaguely familiar, and he wears a finely tailored, navy suit that makes her wonder if he is one of the private industry fellows who will attend the conference tomorrow. She feels a sting of annoyance then, hoping the man hasn’t had the opportunity to take photos. She plans to shock and astonish tomorrow, and a leak of her hard work will not help her cause one bit.

The man appears startled as she approaches him and as she gets a closer look of his face, it becomes apparent that he is about her father’s age. Perhaps a little younger. He almost turns away, but she is faster, opening her door to block his path.

“Do you need help, Sir?”

“Ah, pardon me. I believe I’ve lost my way. I was surprised to see such a famous young lady work on her own this late and I couldn’t help but gawk.”

She blinks at the comment but straightens herself. She hadn’t anticipated to see red eyes, as though he’d been crying in anguish. He gives her a sad smile and a voice in her head nags at her. There’s something familiar about the man, especially around his eyes. They are a precise shade of blue she knows (and loves) too well but passes the thought as a coincidence.

“I don’t blame you. I get lost often myself and I grew up here,” she laughs awkwardly, hoping to lighten the atmosphere as her husband would, but the man’s eyes appear glazed over, fixated on the invention on her table.

It alarms her that his hands are now clenched and feels dread pool in her stomach. She desperately hopes this man isn’t a corporate spy of some sort. He forces himself to look away, looking oddly defeated. What is even more confounding, is that the man doesn’t make excuses, nor does he try to cajole her into letting him see her precious invention. Instead, he’s staring at her now, as though he’s taking in every feature of her face and committing it to memory. She shifts from one foot to the other uncomfortably and the man shakes himself out of his reverie.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I will be on my way now.”

“It’s alright! Would you like me to walk you out?”

He shakes his head with a smile and runs a hand through his silver-streaked hair. In her head, she sees another man, younger, do the motion in the _exact_ manner and feels her cheek flush. She realizes too late that the stranger bears an uncanny resemblance to the man closest to her heart, but _this_ man’s demeanor is too far removed from her beloved’s to be him.

“I will be alright. I’m sure… you have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow.”

The look of anguish returns, and Pidge knows the man is using every ounce if his strength not to break down in front of her.

“Will I be seeing you at the conference?” She asks softly, wishing she knew how to help him.

The man exhales heavily and thinks on the question. “I suppose you will.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe to the moisture in his eyes. “You will have to excuse me, I… I am just facing some personal turmoil. It was why I was wandering about, I was hoping to clear my mind.”

“Please don’t apologize for that,” Pidge answers in earnest. She wishes her husband is here instead. Though she feels a twist of pain in her heart for him, openly sympathize with people has never been her forte.

He gives a mysterious smile that only stirs her relentlessly curious mind more, but the man only lifts a hand to wave her goodbye. Pidge allows the door to close behind her, letting him past a he walks down the dimly-lit hallway. He pauses after a few feet and turns to her with a hesitant look on his face.

“…My daughter is a huge fan of yours.” His eyes soften with affection as he thinks of his child. “She… she’s deeply inspired by you.”

Pidge flushes at the compliment and looks bashfully down. “I’ve not done much yet, but I’m flattered.”

“She’s an inventor,” he states proudly. He stops and looks away again, blinking rapidly. He clears his throat and looks at her again with a forced, wide smile. “I will not hear the end of it if I don’t ask for a picture. May I trouble you with one?”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all!”

As the man pulls his phone from his pocket, a silver pen clacks to the floor. Pidge bends to help him pick it up, but the man moves with shocking speed, snatching it up and shoving it into his pocket. The panicked look in her eyes made her gulp but he continues as though nothing had transpired.

“I…I hope I could live to her expectations tomorrow,” she begins conversationally, hoping to ease the sudden tension that had manifested between them. The man quietly avoids her gaze and fiddles with his phone and Pidge could not help but feel as though she’s crossed a boundary of some sort with her harmless remark.

He lifts his phone and Pidge shifts her feet, stopping as the man raised his hand. She bites her lip, unsure of what he was about to do and flushes as he takes a singular photo of her. He appraises it carefully and smiles that sad smile of his once more before tucking his phone carefully into his coat pocket as though it’s treasure. He gives a quiet thanks and his dress shoes swivel away from her, clicking loudly on the epoxy floors.

The uneasiness in her belly hasn’t dissipated, but the man has been nothing short of respectful. She had anticipated to be photographed with him, as people typically requested. He’s not the oddest fan she’s encountered, she supposes. With a shrug, she returns to her lab. She’s not too eager to go over her speech for the conference, but it needs to be done and she wants tomorrow to be nothing short of perfect.

Her phone buzzes with a notification and she smiles at the photo sent by her husband. Her thumb traces lovingly over the infant’s smiling face, deep in slumber. Looking at her daughter’s face stirs something in her heart as she sits up. She wants to make her daughter proud, she realizes. The long nights in the lab, after tomorrow, will no longer be as frequent and she could look forward to snuggles with her little cub and yes, even with her touch-starved husband who sends her longing texts every night she is not home. Energized, she takes a deep breath and begins loudly.

_“A very good morning to all beings of our universe. Today, marks a momentous day in history…”_

* * *

Lance blinks wearily as the brightness fades and the interior of his apartment materialized before him. On his couch, he sees a familiar amber-eyed woman seated, nearly brimming with anticipation. Her eyes light up as she sees him, and he smiles as she runs to hug him tightly. The heaviness in his heart lightens almost immediately. 

“Did you see her?! Did it work?”

He reaches up to stroke the woman’s hair lovingly. He’s forgotten how much like her she was. Her eyes, her voice, her intellect; everything he loved about her, in his beloved daughter.

“I did." He lifts the silver pen in his palm, tracing the engraving of his wife's name on it's side; the invention named in her memory. "Thank you for the gift, _mija_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the dose of angst. Love to hear your thoughts ♥


End file.
